


Absolutely Rotten

by SweetRaspberryTea



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:45:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetRaspberryTea/pseuds/SweetRaspberryTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tooth for a spleen, isn't that how the old saying goes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolutely Rotten

Series: Call of Duty: Nazi Zombies.  
 **Pairing: Nikolai Belinski & Edward Richtofen, non-romantic.  
** **Rating: M. For the love of God, don't let your grandma read this.  
** **Summary: A tooth for a spleen, isn't that how the saying goes?  
** **Disclaimer: I do not, and most likely will not own Call of Duty. Treyarch/Infinity Ward/Ubisoft you get the point co-owns it. I don't.  
Lemme get to the fanfiction now-**

"Son of bitch." The Bolshevik rubbed his sore cheek, his tooth aching. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been to a dentist. Hell, he couldn't even remember the last time he brushed his teeth. Somewhere in the thirties he estimated.

Early thirties.

His scizophrenic comrade (he used the term lightly) looked over in curiosity. "Are you in pain dear Nikolai?" His bright blue eyes gleamed in a faint bloodlust.

The Soviet glared back with equally blue eyes. "Nyet Richtofen, I'm fine." He knew better. He remembered one time Richtofen had told him a patient came in with a broken finger and he cut the whole arm off. Nope, he was fine, as much as his tooth objected.

"Oh come now..." He cooed, tapping the Soviet's cheek.

Nikolai winced, scrunching his eye.

"I'm a doctor, you can trust me. I had to deal with plenty of toothaches back in World War One, I think I can deal with yours." He giggled.

"Yeah, and how many died from it?" He rubbed his cheek again.

Richtofen stood back, and with a pause, he resumed: "Well, only a couple. Besides, an infected tooth can get to a root canal, and I don't have the right tools for that."

"No."

"Tsk Tsk." Richtofen chided rather loudly, the noise residing through the oddly quiet theatre. "I will remove it, and I need you so I won't let you die. I promise."

"There's a catch, isn't there?"

"Well isn't there always?" Richtofen grinned maniacally. "You're like what, forty something?" He estimated. "I don't think you need yuor galbladder or appendix anymore, I want them."

The Soviets eyes grew wide. "Oh hell no!" He rose up, picking up his gun in one hand, a half-empty vodka bottle in the other. "That's not happening!" He began to walk away, leaving Edward to only stand.

The Doctor was a bit taken aback, he said no after all. Normally, people just screamed and begged for mercy. He shrugged and sat next to the Juggernog machine for awhile, his thoughts elsewhere. He kneeled, staring forward at nothing. "He'll be back soon enough." He eerily mumbled to no one in particular.

And yes, the Doctor was right. The Soviet returned a couple of round later, his Juggernog having worn off.

Richtofen was still in his corner, unchanged except for a couple empty ammo cartiridges, and blood on his front which faced the zombies.

Nikolai drank the Juggernog, burped loudly & smashed it on a zombies head. "I'm going to Pack-a-Punch, you come with, yes?"

Richtofen looked up with a devious smile. "Of course, I always love it when it's upgraded!" He replied back with glee. His joints creaked in pain. Man, being fifty-two had it's drawbacks, but Richtofen didn't seem to mind. The Teleporter was all hooked up, and a claymore was set. A good fifteen zombies ran up the stairs as the two men where in the Teleporter. As soon as the flash indicated the men leaving, the Claymore went off, and the zombies exploded across the room.

In the Pack-a-Punch room, Nikolai busied himself with upgrading his AK-74u, his handgun soon to follow. Richtofen quietly dismantled a cable behind him, picked up the empty vodka bottle left from an earlier escapade, and brought it down on the Soviet's head with a loud shatter. Nikolai slumped to the floor, as Richtofen smiled over him.

"No one refuses treatment from the Doctor." His face wrinkled into a devious grin.

Now, Nikolai was about seventy-five inches tall (which was surprisingly tall, as many Russian-born men and women Richtofen knew where short), and about ninety something kilogrammes, Nikolai was one heavy man. Being sevety-two inches tall, and only coming in at sixty-seven kilogrammes, it would be one hell of a task to drag the Soviet from the Pack-a-Punch machine to the ignored table near the wall. He grunted with his joints, dragging the heavier man from under the arms.

"Oh ew, he sweats." He whispered, turning his head the other way. "Gott Nikolai, chill on the alcohol." He commented to the other man, who was obviously not listening. In one big heave, Nikolai was on the thick table, stoumach up, snoring lightly. Richtofen wiped his hands on the cloth hanging on the wall. He looked at Nikolai. "It's for the spleens."

Nikolai merely mumbled something in his mother tongue, licked his lips and tilted his head.

Richtofen's mood to the man wasn't particularly unpleasant, but despite the fact that blood was his thing, Richtofen was a generally clean man. Granted, blood could be all over him, ruining his favorite dress shirts, but when it came to sweat, or facial hair...he shuddered at the notion. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Nikolai shifted in his sleep, but remained flat on his back.

Richtofen looked at the angle, calculating how he'd go with the surgery. Two bottles of vodka, check. His surgical materials (which he kept in the brown sack on his belt) check. Well, that was it. He opened the Soviet's jacket from the bottom up, unhooking the belt, and pulling up the shirt to his upper torso. With a marker he always kept in his handy-dandy satchel, he plotted a mark where he'd cut.

The man moved his head again, and curled his legs in an upward position.

Richtofen stopped breathing for a fraction of a second, and resumed, picking out a scalpel, freshly cleaned (in zombie blood that is). "This angle just won't do. He's too rotund." He remarked to himself.

"Well do something about it." the voices in his head chirped.

"Oh Gott, not again." He whined, looking at the man from the three possible angles he could use. Well, four but the last one wasn't really perferred.

"Do it Richtofen...cut him open." They cooed.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" He rubbed his temples. If you couldn't beat them, join them.

"Do it." The voice commanded.

"I'm doing it for the spleens Nikolai." He called out on deaf ears, and hung his left leg over the other man's hips, sitting astride over his stoumach. He opened the man's mouth, looking straight in the back for the rotten molar. The Soviet exhaled directly in Richtofen's face-causing a wave of nausea to go over the Nazi. "Gott Nikolai, brush your damned teeth once in awhile." He took a strong grip of the tooth between his middle and index finger, took in a breath, and yanked as hard as his muscles would let him.

The tooth yanked the Soviet out of his cranial damage slumber. "Ow!" He yelled, the noise echoing through the theater.

"Got it." The Nazi smiled triumphantly. He managed to cause pain, without killing in the first time for almost a decade.

Joy.

"You fucking facist, that hurt!"

Richtofen's smirk increased. "Granted, but your molar will feel fine now." He held the tooth up, half rotted as it was, far from white and almost a brownish colour.

"Ew." He took a swig of vodka, looking at the man who he just noticed was straddling his hips. "Uh, any reason you're on top of me?"

Richtofen grew a bit uneasy. "The voices told me to do it." He replied quickly, "now lay back down and get drunk, I have a surgery to do." He insisted upon it, pushing the Soviet down back onto his back.

"Wait, what're you talking about? I didn't agree to any surgery!" He growled, gladly taking a swig of vodka as the Doctor suggested.

"I took your tooth, and I was your spleen, but you need that to live, so I want your appendix. Or Galbladder." He paused, meeting his eyes with the Soviets. "Or both, both is good. Both is very good." He merely shrugged.

"No! Nyet! Not happening!" He raised back up onto his elbows, attempting to get up.

"No no no, I need this!" He pleaded.

Nikolai paused. Richtofen did not plead. It just wasn't like him. That was like Takeo to give Nikolai a comment. It just wasn't natural...Nikolai almost felt-well, he felt almost sorry. However, he wasn't about to get his organs ripped out for the sadistic doctor. That was just gay, and as he grew up that just wouldn't do.

"Come on please?" He pleaded again.

Again, with the pleading! It was so out of character for him.

Richtofen's eyes darkened. "Fine, I will take them anyways." He bent Nikolai's elbows backwards, forcing the Soviet to recoil and fall back onto his back. Richtofen carefully twirled the scalpel in a professional way, bringing it down on his comrade's lower torso. He suddenly became concentrated, even as Nikolai let out a scream in pain. He heard-and recognized it, but only kept cutting downwards until he saw the small organs. He cut as a doctor would, precisely and carefully, sewing it up immediately with some extra string. He repeated with the appendix, and in minutes, Nikolai was sewn up and sipping on vodka in pain.

"Your facist bastard." He called upon deaf ears, just as the Doctor had done minutes before.

Richtofen caressed the organs, interested in nothing more. He brought them to his cheeks, rubbing them on his skin joyfully, as if it was a silken smooth blanket. He bucked his hips without knowing, still paying much attention to the discarded organs, blood still dripping onto his face, his lips, and his neck, into his uniform and staining his dress shirt. He was quiet, but occassionally you could hear him gasp in pleasure, rolling his hips.

Nikolai sat in pain, doing nothing to get the crazed Nazi off of his groin, where he had shifted. He gurgled, bringing the vodka bottle to his lips, only able to take a small sip. His stoumach ached in pain.

The Doctor began to buck his hips more furiously, still midly unaware of the action.

"You dirty faggot, get off of me!" Nikolai managed to scream, waking the older man from his trance.

"Was?" He muttered, speaking in German, he proceeded to ask questions Nikolai could answer, if only he could understand. He never quite understood German, English was tough enough. "Oh, Nikolai, hallo."

"Hi."

Richtofen and Nikolai did not move, their eyes meeting.

"Get your bony ass off of me." He began to sit up, rolling over, sandwhiching Richtofen's right leg under his hip.

Still holding the organs in his hand, he muttered under his breath, something about fat and how his legs (all three) where in a bit of pain.

"What did you say you facist?" Nikolai was becoming annoyed. He was in pain, on the verge of becoming sober, and the Nazi had a boner on top of him. Oh joy. More out of character-ness...well, somewhat, Richtofen did get pretty excited over blood, organs giving him a stiff one was probably a common occurance. The Cossack simply sat on his backside while he calmed down, drinking the pain away as he usually did. It was a wonder how he hadn't gotten liver cancer yet.

Well, yet.

He watched Richtofen-who was giddy as ever. His legs curled up so he was in a psuedo-fetal position, laying on his backside, his back against the wall. "Why haven't we teleported back yet?" He remembered his gun, which was now on the floor, newly upgraded. He inserted his handgun in so it would upgrade as well.

"I cut-" he heaved a breath, his cheeks a bit on the pink side (where it wasn't covered in blood) "The line." He exhaled heavily.

"You what!" Nikolai bellowed, crawling over to the Nazi, grabbing him by the collar. "You son of bitch! How are we to go down?" He inquired rather angrily.

"When I'm done..." He gasped, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I will reconnect it."

He looked into Richtofen's unusually clouded eyes. His pupils where wide, and his gaze wasn't nearly as crazy as it normally was, (and usually, it was so crazy it made him shiver). His forehead less wrinkled, his brows sagged, as if he was well...uh, how could he put this-he was...turned on. Just by two useless organs that Nikolai had to sacrifice to get a tooth pulled no less. Better than the two hundred dollar deductible. (Except for the giant scar down his stoumach, which still stung like a crazy bitch, but he figured the Super Soldier testing Richtofen had done on him and his comrades in the past kept him awake). He placed a hand on Richtofen's neck, scratching at it to get some attention. The Nazi got his organs, maybe he could have a bit of fun. He couldn't remember the last time he got to have fun.

The Nazi responded simply by trapping the man's hands, leaning his neck into the other's touch. In no way was it sensual (at least from his side, but the Doctor was oddly pleased by it).

Very odd indeed.

Nikolai took a swig of vodka, retracting his hand shortly afterwards.

"Nein, come back here." He commanded.

Nikolai smirked, grasping the Nazi by the tie and yanking him against the wall. He pressed against the Nazi's backside, switching his grip to the back of his jacket collar and the leather straps holding the jacket on.

"What the hell? Get off of me you oaf!" He yelled as he seemed to snap out of his dream-like trance.

"Shut up you whiny Nazi bastard." He spat, pressing up again.

Edward squirmed, but even with Nikolai weakened, Nikolai was a Super Soldier, and he was not. He groaned in pain, half out of a feigned pleasure-the other from the Soviet crushing his backside with every thrust of his furious dry humping. He slipped the organs in his pocket and braced himself against the wall. (Getting his boney face bashed against the wall he found out, was quite painful). Nikolai suddenly stopped a couple of minutes later, panting.

"Get off of me, you oaf!" Edward yelled as Nikolai released the man's clothes from his grip, wriggling out from under the man.

"Will you reconnect the wires now?"

Edward pouted in dis-belief, but put his MP-40 in the Pack-a-Punch machine, and started to re-connect the wires. Picking up his new Afterburner, the two teleported back to the lobby. From afar, they spotted Tank and Takeo, running a circuit. They heard Tank's oorah multiple times and decided to join in.

"Oh and for the record Nikolai..." Edward started, shooting one of his beloved creations.

"What Richtofen?" He fired his AK-74u2 at a zombie ridiculously close to Takeo (who of course yelled back in annoyance).

Richtofen kicked the man in between his legs with his shin. "Don't ever try to dominate me ever again."

Nikolai cursed under his breath, crouching on a small board which seemed to make him invisible to the zombies.

Richtofen looked back, squinting. "Ever."

Tank looked at Takeo and they both shrugged.


End file.
